


we are just like the waves that flow back and forth

by glimbows



Category: It Lives (Visual Novels)
Genre: F/M, mc gets therapy. finally, no beta we die like men, post canon slice of life bs..... rip it lives 3, the it lives fandoms are dead and this is SELF INDULGENT but, zo told me to post this so i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimbows/pseuds/glimbows
Summary: An average day in Pine Springs three years after The Society's destruction.
Relationships: Danni Asturias/Imogen Wescott, Elliot Vance & Main Character (It Lives Beneath), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tom Sato/Main Character (It Lives Beneath)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	we are just like the waves that flow back and forth

She wakes up with her face buried in her pillow. The darkness fails to subside any when her head shoots up, her chest heaving, shaking off invisible pursuers. Gemma throws her arms and legs out, spidering across the bed to take up as much space as she possibly can. She’s alone, and this confirms it. 

Somewhere in the dramatics, her phone falls to the floor. She gracelessly lunges over the side to retrieve it. As if the night sky watching her from the window wasn’t enough proof, the clock on her half-shattered screen confirms that it’s an hour or two past midnight. This is her first nightmare of the week, which would be impressive if it wasn’t Tuesday. 

She sighs, savoring the air in her lungs, and loses her phone amidst the blankets once again. 

“Gemma?” a groggy voice sounds off from somewhere in the dark. 

There is no breeze, no iron taste in her mouth. There is no hooded figure in her peripheral vision, just Elliot, concerned as he rubs his eyes and sits up to face her. 

“Sorry, Scoot. It’s all good.” 

“You were tossing and turning a lot.” she can’t make out his face, but she can hear the frown in his tone. “And I know you do anyway, but not that much, usually.” 

“I’m okay. I promise.” 

“What was it this time?” 

Something about a syringe in her arm, a man grabbing her from her bed. There was lakewater in her mouth and blood running down her face, Astrid, with her brains spiked out, threatening to skin every last one of them alive before sloughing off into the lake herself. 

It was too much.

“It was nothing. Just the usual, y’know, gore and guts kinda thing.” she tugs on her hoodie sleeves, wishing she’d worn a t-shirt underneath. “But I’m fine now.” 

“Okay,” Elliot murmurs. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Do you want me to stay home tomorrow?” 

“And skip your field trip? No way! I’m okay, buddy, really.” 

“Okay,” he repeats, more resolute this time as he lays back down. 

“Are you excited to see the dam?” 

“I’ve seen more of the dam than any of my classmates.” 

“Touche,” Gemma says, threading a hand through her curls and grimacing when her fingers get stuck. “Call me if you need an out.”

He shrugs. “I’ll be fine. Robbie and I go there whenever he visits, so… not all bad memories. And I don’t think we’re going inside, just walking along the top. The science teachers wanted an excuse to get out of the school since the weather’s been so nice.” 

“Ah, springtime in the springs…” 

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Elliot chuckles, burrowing himself back in bed. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep. They said we gotta be at school by 5.” 

“Ah, field trips in high school…” 

“But first I’m going to walk over there and kick you.” 

Gemma grins, a selfish attempt to stall him. It’ll be so quiet once he stops laughing. “I dare you, big bad.” 

Elliot waves his hand dismissively, giving her a  _ “mmph”  _ before falling silent once again. Gemma sits up, observing him as much as she can through the moonlight before it feels creepy. She swallows. She breathes. She lays back down and tries to take a page out of her little brother’s book. 

* * *

There’s a bird outside her window that won’t shut the fuck up, a bird with no compassion for the fact that it took her another hour and a half after her nightmare to fall back asleep. Gemma succumbs to the fact that she’ll just have to call it, but still buries her pillow against her ear for the drama of it all. 

The clock on her phone reads 8:55. The clock in the kitchen, also reading 8:55, proves this isn’t some kind of cruel joke; she really is up so early for absolutely no reason. 

Like a zombie, she shuffles in from the staircase. Arthur, with his back to her, flips eggs sunny-side-up by the stove. Neither speaks as Gemma makes her way to the table, pulling out a chair and scraping it against the floor. At the sound, her grandfather cracks another pair of eggs. 

She’s slated for a therapy appointment at three in the afternoon. The fact that she can’t back out of it by saying she’s fine only frustrates her further, and she sighs, whistling through her teeth as her phone lights up. Imogen is going off about something or other in the groupchat— and Gemma makes a mental note to reply later as she stuffs her phone in her pocket. 

“Bacon?” Arthur says. Gemma looks up to see him glancing at her from over his shoulder. 

“I’m watching my figure.” 

“Bullshit,” He plates her food as she laughs, a tired sound, and brings it over to her before returning to the stove. “Big day?” 

“Not really.” she tears into her first egg, quickly mopping up the yolk with the white like it’s some spitting suture. 

“You got therapy at three.” 

“I know.” 

“Elliot’s gonna be out ‘till four.” 

“I know. I might get dinner in town after ‘cause Imogen and Parker are gonna be off.” 

Arthur plates his own breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Good. That’s one less mouth I gotta feed.” 

She pokes her tongue out at him as he proceeds to eat his lunch at the counter, something she’s never quite understood. Even a good two years of toil and trouble after Pine Springs almost being destroyed wasn’t enough to get him to stop working. Gemma catches her reflection in a mirror across the room, knowing her stubbornness has to come from _ somewhere _ . Her mother, her grandmother, and Arthur too.

She’s about to tell him to take a load off when the back door swings open, its screaming hinges making them both jump. Tom, dressed in his swim trunks and a t-shirt, bustles inside carrying something greasy and sputtering. 

“Morning, Vances!” 

“Tom,” Arthur nods. Gemma gives him a smile from her seat, a piece of bacon dangling from her mouth. 

“Aw man, we’re a Vance short. Where’s Dennis the Menace?” 

“Field trip,” Gemma says. “The science department is taking his class to the dam because they’re so close to the end of the school year that they don’t feel like doing work anymore or something.” 

“Well, two outta three ain’t bad. Here’s the powerhead for the Royce order, Arthur. I called Bob and told him I’d be there in thirty to install it.” 

“So what’re you doin’ here?” Arthur raises an eyebrow. 

“Well,” Tom darts to the table, giving Gemma a quick kiss on the head. “Fueling up, for one,” He then fills a glass with water and quickly chugs it. “And checking in before heading out.” 

A wave of deja-vu hits Gemma as she watches them speak, their banter remnant of her first day in Pine Springs. She checks her phone for the date to remind herself that she hasn’t woken up in some weird time loop, fingers shaking slightly as she types in her passcode and works on a response to Imogen's messages. 

“Gemma?” A gruff voice says. She snaps her head in the air. 

“Yeah, Grandpa?” 

“D’you need a ride to your session later?” 

Her phone shakes out of her hand, flimsy fingers clamoring to catch it before it clatters against her plate. She gives a small yelp, trying her best to pass it off as a silly mistake. 

“No, I should be fine. I was gonna walk.” 

“Long walk.” Arthur quips. 

“Nice day.” 

They stare each other down across the kitchen, an affectionate version of a Western showdown. Arthur tilts his chin in the air slightly, turning and giving Tom a clap on the shoulder that nearly makes him toss the sandwich he’s been making across the counter. 

“Give me the keys, kid. I’ll run the piece over to Royce.” 

“Really?” Tom grins, fishing in his pocket. “Does this mean I get the day off?” 

“It means don’t push your luck ‘cause you’re still in charge of stuff back here.” 

“Aye aye, captain.” 

Arthur eyes his granddaughter once more as he moves to pick up the powerhead. She hides her quivering hands in her lap, mouth turned upward in a smirk. 

“See you, kiddo. Good luck.” And though his words are soft, his expression is just as unreadable as ever. 

Tom skips to the side on one foot, craning his neck to watch Arthur leave. Once the door is entirely swung in and any heavy footfalls have subsided, he grins and jerks a thumb in the direction of the docks. 

“Where the hell did that come from? I mean, I’m not complaining, but most days your grandpa almost kicks my ass across the lake himself.” 

Gemma shrugs. “Guess he was feeling generous.” 

“He’s not the only one,” His eyes glint mischievously as he runs to the table, slinking his arms around her and attacking her with a deep kiss to her cheek. The hand of hers about to fly up and catch his jaw trembles, so she opts to lean in instead, laughing groggily as she cracks her fingers under the table. 

“What time did you get here?” she asks. 

“Early,” Another kiss, this one pressed to her jaw as he lunges for a piece of bacon. “Came up after I got that piece from the supplier. Long night?” 

“Huh?” 

He waves the bacon before them, taking a quick bite of it before his cheesy grin reappears. “You didn’t even stop me.” 

She scans her plate as if the theft hadn’t just happened before her very eyes. “Oh,” With a sigh, her head hits the back of his chest. “You can have it. You’re a growing boy.” 

“Soon I’ll be 7’0. But, seriously, what’s up? You must’ve fallen asleep pretty early, ‘cause I know you wouldn’t just chicken out of our iMessage beer pong game.” 

“I slept funny.” she shifts to the side, heart thumping and reverberating through her whole body. “My back hurts. And not in a fun way.” 

“Anything I can do to help? You can come sit in the shop with me. The sun might feel good on your back,” 

“I don’t wanna distract you,” 

"You  _ totally _ would, but I don’t mind. And I can give you a ride later, too,” 

“Do you like me or something?” 

“Only a little,” he presses one more kiss to her nose before spinning around the side of the chair, standing before her. “And if I could, I’d wait for you, but… I need to pay my rent somehow, and I got a guy dropping off his motor at three-thirty.” 

She pulls her knees up to her chest. “Just quit and come stay here with me.” 

“At Arthur's?” he raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, what could go wrong?”

“I’ll just hide you in my closet. Or under my bed. Or in the shower.”

“Like a stuffed animal?” 

“Where do you keep _ your _ stuffed animals?” 

She dissolves into a laugh, prepared to swipe a foot at him. Before she can do so, however, Tom plops down in the chair beside her and immediately finds her hands hidden under the table. Thinking she could keep them from him had been a stupid idea from the start. 

“You’re dodging the topic,” he says matter-of-factly. She wrenches her fingers a bit tighter around his, begging the shivers to stop. “All of the topics, actually. How are you feeling today?” 

“I’ve… been better.” 

“Nightmare? Panic attack? Forgot to take one of your meds?” 

“Oh shit,” she gasps, looking across the room. “Okay, yeah, my birth control, but that’s unrelated. I had a nightmare last night, but I took my paroxetine and put a reminder in my phone to take it again today.” 

Tom smiles, running a finger over the back of her hand. “Thought you looked a little spooked. You sure you don’t want a ride into town?” 

“Walking will be good for me. Gotta keep my stamina up, y’know, now that I’m not running track or killing monsters on the regular. I don’t wanna lose all my gold stars.” 

“My Gemma?” he boasts as he stands up. “No way. You’re a legend.” 

“Hey! Where are you going?” she grabs a slice of toast from her plate and holds it out to him. 

“Running to grab your meds,” he replies before leaning in and taking a big bite. “Top cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, right?” 

Her cheeks redden slightly as she nibbles on the remains. “Bingo, tiger.” 

He salutes her as he crosses the room, hopping up on the first stairstep with the pep of a cheerleader. Gemma supposes he could be classified as such, always at her side to give her an extra push. 

“There’s a glass of water on the counter. And, oh, I’m so proud of you.” 

* * *

“Is there any way you and Elliot could stop sharing a bedroom? Even if you weren’t having the nightmares, Gemma, you’re twenty-five years old. Both you and your sixteen-year-old brother deserve your own space. And then you wouldn’t have to worry about feeling guilty for waking him on top of feeling scared.” 

“I’ve been staying with my boyfriend a lot. His apartment’s like… five minutes away,” she replies, much more focused on a crack in the ceiling than whatever it is Dr. Knight is scribbling on her clipboard. 

Gemma shifts again on the couch, slinging her booted feet back up on the cushions after around ten minutes of having them planted on the floor. She’s normally not a fan of lying down mid-session, but her restlessness has been getting the better of her all afternoon. Not even a long-ass walk could solve that. 

“And what happens when you have nightmares that wake him up?” 

She finds her millionth way to avert her eyes, a shoddy attempt at annihilating the embarrassment blooming in her chest. 

“He gets it.” 

“But do you feel guilty?” 

“When?” 

Dr. Knight quirks an eyebrow. “When you wake him up with a nightmare. Have you been feeling guilty elsewhere, Gemma?” 

_ Shit _ , she thinks. 

“I’m just a lot to deal with. Always have been, always will be. But he and my friends and my family all get it, so it’s fine. They’re not really a walk in the park either.” 

“Maybe it’s time we do your monthly satisfaction evaluation, just to make sure all your needs are being met.” the older woman reaches towards her desk and grabs another piece of paper to staple to her clipboard. Gemma’s never actually seen what it says, but she has the rundown memorized. “You know, the o-” 

“-  _ the ones we can control _ .” she finishes. “Yeah, this won’t cure me or anything, it just gives us a launchpad to go off of so that external stressors don’t make my condition worse. I know the drill.” 

“I know you do.” Dr. Knight smiles, clicking her pen. “And I know it’s redundant, but it really does help me decide where to go with your treatment. So long as you’re honest with me.” 

Gemma gives a nod, hands folded over her stomach as she stares at the ceiling. She takes a moment to thank whatever higher power staring down at her that there are no lie detector tests on the premises. 

“How’s your family life? Aside from worrying and worrying  _ about _ your brother, is everything alright? Your grandpa’s still in good health?” 

“Yup, all good.” She decides to leave out that quip that it would likely take an asteroid to kill Arthur. 

“Okay. What about your social life? Are you getting out, seeing your friends, keeping in contact with people?” 

“I’m going to dinner with some of them after I leave here, so,” 

Dr. Knight gives a small smile. “Fun! Gionetti’s?” 

“Hanks,” Gemma replies. “Hope you don’t think less of us for heading to a dive bar.” 

“Not at all, they’ve got some great fish n’ chips. How about your love-slash-sex life? You’re feeling respected, supported, fulfilled, all of that?” 

“Check, check, check.” 

“When’s your anniversary again?” 

“Early August. It’ll be three years.” 

“That’s wonderful.” Dr. Knight grins, giving her an enthusiastic nod as she scribbles down her response. “And now, your favorite one, what about your  _ inner  _ life? Are you happy with where you are personally? Your achievements, appearance, abilities, et cetera?”

The therapist isn’t surprised when she doesn’t get as rapid-fire a response. Gemma runs a finger up and down her knuckle, staring at the door instead of her doctor. 

She’s a college graduate. She’s an accomplished athlete. She’s a million other things she can’t tell any therapist aside from Dan, and she reckons she feels about as complete as she can. There are no bottles with words of guidance bumping against the docks for her to grab anymore. Gemma knows she now owns the humming in her hands, the double-beating in her heart- and she’s proud of it. 

And she’s proud of herself. No one else can make Elliot roll his eyes as much, can make Tom as beet red, can make her barnacle-crusted grump of a grandfather so soft. No one else has her Power… or, her power. 

“I’ll give it a nine out of ten.” 

“What’s stopping you from giving yourself a ten?” 

She can’t help but smirk only slightly, turning her head to look at Dr. Knight for the first time her entire session. Her view is obstructed partially by one of her many golden curls. 

“I’m a little bit stubborn sometimes.” 

* * *

“Parker, hold up your glass.” 

“What?” 

“Hold up your glass right now,” Imogen demands, phone in hand. Gemma leans over from her chair, peering at her friend as she pulls up her camera. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Parker asks despite doing exactly what he’s told. “You’re the one drinking alcohol at 4:30 pm. It might be 5:00  _ somewhere _ , but not here, not yet.” 

“I mean, technically  _ nothing _ ,” a flash flickers between the three of them. “I just need to give Danni proof that you’re drinking straight milk at a bar.” 

“You’re gonna make her whole late-night shift worth it.” Gemma snickers. 

Parker defiantly takes a sip of his straight milk. “And then you’re all gonna laugh it up in the group chat, right? You’re gonna send me a million… milk memes I don’t understand and laugh it up?” 

“To Parker Shaw,” Gemma begins, holding her iced tea out to meet Imogen’s martini. “The worst person I know.” 

“I can’t believe you just said the words milk and memes back to back,” Imogen adds as she takes a sip. 

Parker waves them both off, doing so double-time once they begin laughing at the milk mustache left behind on his upper lip. The laughter doesn’t subside until they’ve been brought their entrees, a hearty plate of nachos, and some crab fries. Imogen whips her phone out again to send yet another photo to her girlfriend. 

All around them, Pine Springs residents enjoy games of pool, NASCAR coverage on one of the many televisions around the bar, and whatever greasy dive monstrosities they can get their hands on after a long day of work. Gemma loses herself in the dirty spirit of it all, and in the particularly potent lump of crab meat on her french fry as she tosses it into her mouth. 

“I think we should just eat appetizers all night,”

“Seconded,” Imogen says while drowning a chip in salsa and cheese. 

“I think we should get wings on top of it all.” Parker chips in. Both girls immediately grin, Gemma pointing a fry in his direction. 

“Good thinking, officer.” 

“If only all our dates were here.” Imogen sighs. “And on that note, I call dibs on any leftovers we three end up with so she can have something  _ scrumptious _ and fattening after her shift.” 

Gemma raises an eyebrow as Parker has a quick conversation with their waitress. Once his attention is focused back on then, she grins, eyes darting back and forth between him and the one empty seat at their table. 

“Was Cassidy not able to make it, or are you guys still going _ avant-garde _ experimental all around town?” 

“For your information,” he nearly elbows his milk over. “She’s working the night shift.” 

“You didn’t answer my question!” 

Imogen groans, rolling her eyes to the high heavens before leaning halfway across the table to jab a finger at Parker’s chest. “ _ When _ are you going to suck it up and make it official? She’s been on the force for like, almost three years at this point. And we know you guys have tested the waters, so don’t even try to hide it.” 

“I don’t want to be unprofessional! It’s not exactly some small thing to start dating one of your recruits when you’re the chief. The rest of the station might frown upon it.” 

“And they don’t frown upon all your sexual tension?” Gemma interrupts. “Like, jeez, I’ve seen you guys eyefuck from doorways more than I’ve seen you actually work.” 

“Gem’s right. You guys don’t really know what subtle means, so you’d actually be doing the whole precinct a favor at this point.” Parker opens his mouth to protest, but Imogen shakes her head, offering him a smile instead. “Parker! Dating one of your cadets would be one of the least scandalous affairs in the Pine Springs PD.” 

He sits back and promptly polishes off the rest of his milk, the sag of his shoulders stating that he’s realized the obvious: there’s no way he’s going to beat the two of them in this. 

“We just want you to be happy!” 

“And for you to stop fifth wheeling us on date nights,” Imogen adds. 

“It’s not my fault you all decided to date each other and turn every casual friend gathering of ours into some romantic outing!” 

“Parker,” Gemma begins. “If you don’t stop being so stupid, I’m going to kiss you right on the mouth.” 

The girls dissolve into giggles again, a sound Parker can’t help but smile at. Before long, a basket of wings is deposited between their previous appetizers, and a silence settles over their corner of the room as they dig in yet again. 

Gemma yawns mid-wing, covering her face with her hand. The delayed fatigue of anticipating and then participating in her therapy session hits her at full force, full belly an unpleasant reminder that she’s rendered herself vehicle-less in town and will have to walk some absurd number of miles to get home. 

“Poor, sleepy thing,” Imogen smiles. “You wanna head out? We can get the check,” 

She yawns again, waving her hand in the air and drinking in her friend’s faces, warm in the dim backlight of the bar. 

“You guys stay. I’ll leave my chip in and talk to you tomorrow, okay?” 

“I’m holding you to that! We love you, Gem.” 

“Be safe,” Parker adds as she throws her share of money on the table. 

“Imogen?” 

“Yeah, babes?” 

“Do me a favor and order him a real drink.” 

* * *

She races the sunset up the hill, the sky brimming with orange as she finally turns onto Ponderosa, her house sitting quaintly on the same old hill in the distance. The days are getting longer the closer summer creeps. 

It’s only half past the point of oblivion, and her chelsea boots are doing her no favors. Gemma curses to herself as she feels the blisters on her heels begin to bite back. If she wasn’t 100% sure she’d get a splinter or some piece of rock stuck in her foot, she’d go barefoot the rest of the way. Maybe next time, she’ll let her grandpa drive her. Maybe next time, she’ll give herself a 10/10 on Knight’s personal evaluation. 

She passes the dock, aware that there’s no use in thinking about that now. Not when there are so many crickets chirping at her. 

“Ahoy!” 

Around her, birds startle, she can feel it as they scream and flee from the trees. Gemma squints in the direction of the perpetrator, a small laugh escaping her when she sees Tom bent halfway over the Vance’s mini-fishing boat. 

“What are you still doing here?” she asks as she approaches, squatting on the dock to level with him. “My grandpa usually lets you go by 5. He’s not a monster.” 

“Yeah, it wasn’t your grandpa’s decision,” Tom says, gesturing to the underside of the boat. “I’ve been arm-wrestling with these barnacles for the last half hour.” 

“You mean you didn’t come up with silly little tasks to do just to stick around until I got back?” 

“You’re the one perk of the job. Now, excuse me for a moment,” 

She obeys with a smirk, stepping back and subsequently falling on her backside upon the boards of the dock as Tom rolls his shoulders and flexes his fingers. Right before he’s about to go ham with the scraper in his fist, Gemma clicks her tongue. 

“Maybe it would be easier if you took your shirt off.” he looks up, an eyebrow raised. “Trust me, it’s like… the weight of the fabric on your shoulders. I know things. I’m a scientist.” 

“Well, I  _ do _ respect science,” 

The motion over his head is swift until the last second, his wrist getting caught in the armhole of his shirt. Gemma snorts as he shakes his entire arm to remove it, and he throws it at her in retaliation. 

“Now that that’s over,” Tom rolls his shoulders once again, upping the theatrics. “Time for these barnacles to meet their maker.” 

With one deep breath, he’s off, the boat bobbing and bumping against the dock as he increases the pressure on the barnacle. Gemma presses a booted foot to the side to keep him from capsizing, and Tom yelps in surprise as the barnacle suddenly flies from the hull, ping-ponging against the dock and the boat before plunking into the lake below. 

“There you go, babe. Nice hustle.” Gemma teases, nudging his arm with her foot. Tom sits up and heaves. 

“I’m asking Arthur to tip me for that one. I almost concussed myself on the dock!” 

“Aren’t you so happy you decided to live in a laketown?” 

“Actually, now that you mention it, yeah.” he leans back into the boat, patting the bench beside him. “Wanna go out for a little bit? Just as long as the sunset?” 

It’s all in the way he tells her he knows she needs a boat trip without actually saying it. Gemma turns to look at the boathouse and actual house beyond it, smoothing wrinkles out in Tom’s shirt as she thinks. He opts to fix his disheveled bun in the meantime, and just that movement is enough to keep her from refusing. 

Gemma balls up his shirt and places it at her side, kicking off her boots and socks to reveal the angry red spots on her heels. The breeze provides her with a slight sting, then a slight comfort, and inches her curls along her shoulders. 

“Will you go slow?” she asks. Tom grins, extending his hands to meet hers and help her onto the boat. 

“As slow as I can once we’re out there. You know I gotta speed up to get us past the dropoff.” 

“Wait,” she lunges off the side to swipe his shirt from the dock and settles back in happily with it blanketed across her lap. “There. We’re good now.” 

Tom shakes his head as he moves to the upper bench, fingers flying across the console of the boat and eventually settling on the steering wheel once the ol’ girl begins to stutter. As promised, he starts slow, edging them away from the dock and out of the shallow, and kicks up the speed once the engine dips a bit farther under the water. 

Exhausted, Gemma closes her eyes and takes in the feeling of the lakespray on her bare arms. All around her, the Power hums louder, welcoming them on their journey to the center. She sticks a lazy arm over the side, letting her fingers drag in the surf, no longer afraid of it. Eventually, Tom eases the boat to the side and prepares to kill the engine. They come to a gradual stop, the springtime symphony of Lake Triumph a hundred times clearer. 

Careful not to disturb Gemma, Tom throws a leg over his bench to make his way over to the spot beside her. 

“Soon we’ll get to do this every night.” she muses, eyes opening only slightly. 

“Who doesn’t love that sticky, warm weather?” 

“It beats the _ cold, _ ” 

“But that’s snuggle under the blankets weather! And hot cocoa weather!” 

Gemma throws his shirt back in his face, eliciting a giggle from them both. “The Power agrees with me. It told me itself, it likes summer better.” 

“Not fair. We’re not all the vessel for an ancient, powerful entity.” A beat. “But… if I’m being honest, I like summer a lot more than I used to.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Soft lips press against her jaw then, and she lolls her head to the side sleepily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him close to her chest. 

“Just because.” 

“Because what?” she replies. One of her hands runs down his arm, his skin warm after hours under the sun. 

“You remind me of summer. Is that cheesy to say?” 

“I remind you of summer?” 

“Well, we met at the start of summer. And then we had one hell of a summer, and we’re always on the water, or by the water, always all hot and sweaty from running and laughing and whatever else. You just _ look _ like summer, and smell like summer, and taste like-” 

“What does summer  _ smell _ like?”

He leans into her further, dramatically sniffing into her neck so she has to swat him off. By the time she shoves him away, he’s grinning even bigger. 

“Lakewater. And vanilla sugar body wash.” 

Gemma rolls her eyes, unable to do anything but look at him like he’s the moon controlling the tides that bob them along atop the lake. A gust of wind sends them a bit further to the side than before. Tom sits up, looking over the side of the boat and sticking a finger in the water. 

“Just as I thought. Nice spring breeze,” he inhales dramatically. “Nice spring current.”

“I thought only oceans had currents.” 

Tom whips around, eyes wide. It’s then that Gemma realizes she’s pushed one of his buttons, much like when someone mentions groundwater conservation around Lucas. An occupational hazard, they call it. 

“I can prove it!” he reaches for her hand, bringing her to the edge of the boat and lowering her fingers to the water. Sure enough, there’s a pull. “Feel that?” 

“Yup, I feel it,” 

He wiggles his fingers in the water, and she copies him, an amused grin blooming across her face. It’s obvious by the way he’s moving, short bursts and excited glances, that he has more to say. Gemma scoots closer to him, one elbow propped on the edge of the boat as she wraps her arm around his, leaning against him and resting her head on his bicep. 

“Hi,” 

“Tell me more,” she says, peering up at him from under her lashes. 

“Huh?” 

“About the currents. How do lakes have them? All my science classes failed me.” 

His pause indicates that he thinks she may be joking for a moment. Gemma only nods, squishing her cheek further against the warmth of his arm. 

“Well,” Tom starts, leaning over so that they’re fit together. “While… everything was going on a summer or two ago, I tried to learn more about the ecosystem of the lake like Lucas said. Currents in lakes, even man-made ones like Triumph, are caused by wind stress and these things called hydraulic gradients,” 

“Mmmhm,” 

“The dam actually makes the currents worse, because hydraulic gradients are caused by inflows and outflows of water, something that’s greatly exacerbated by whatever they decide to do with the dam channels. It’s less natural here than it would be on a real lake.” 

Gemma nods happily at what sounds like the end of every sentence, completely lost when it comes to anything her boyfriend is saying. His voice, her regular lullaby, coupled with the gentle lapping of the lake makes her eyelids grow heavier by the second. The sun winks at her as it continues to descend. She makes a wish on a fish swimming by that it’ll sink extra slow, that things will stay the same and it’ll be them just for a while. 

“Does that make sense?” Tom asks eventually. 

She nods and kisses his arm, happy with the thought of sitting beside him and not understanding a word out of his mouth for the rest of her life.

* * *

Elliot’s in bed long before she is, the heaviness of his eyelids mirroring the droopiness of hers as she shambles in the door. All Gemma can do at the sight of him still barely-awake is smile and shake her head. 

“Did you wait up for me?” 

“No,” Elliot says, a small smile on his face. “I just forgot to brush my teeth.” 

“A likely story. But hey, since you’re awake, how was your trip today?” 

She listens intently as she changes out of her lakewater-kissed dayclothes and into her pajamas, flopping gracelessly on her bed the first chance she gets. Elliot merely shrugs and fights off a yawn. 

“Pretty boring. They stopped and got us ice cream after, though, so I guess I can’t say it was all lame.” 

“Oooh! What flavor? Rocky road?” 

“They were out, so I got cookies and cream.” 

“Still a valid choice,” she nods and throws him a smile. Once again, they mirror each other, both slumped back in bed.

“Oh, thank god you approve. Now I can sleep at night.” 

Gemma’s phone buzzes a few times, and she fumbles with the blankets to find it. It’s the groupchat again- Danni having finally gotten off work to torture Parker for his drink choices from earlier in the evening. 

Elliot clears his throat. “How was your day?” 

“Good,” Gemma replies, taking a moment to send a few pointless emojis to her friends. 

“Did you talk about what happened last night in therapy?” 

“A little bit.” 

“Did it help?” 

She shrugs. “I guess we’ll see.” 

On that note, she leans over to their shared bedside table and turns out the light. Their old beds creak and groan in unison as they settle, all until only the crickets are left singing. In the dark, Gemma can tell he isn’t asleep yet. 

“Gemma?” 

"Yeah, Scooter?” 

A beat. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

Another beat. In the distance, an owl hoots. Under the covers, her phone lights up. 

“What do you say we spend the whole day together tomorrow?” 

“I have school,” Elliot groans.

“Pffft, you can miss one day. It’s like you said, they don’t have anything to actually teach you anymore. They’re just counting down the days until summer break.” 

“And you’re saying I should skip and start early?” 

“I’m saying you should spend some quality time with your favorite sister.” 

“You’re my _ only _ sister,” she can hear his smile in his tone. Their laughter is interrupted by a yawn from Gemma, which quickly turns into a yawn for Elliot. Half-garbled, he speaks: “But I guess that sounds nice.” 

“You won’t regret it, Scoot,” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

She opens one eye and peers across the way at him, eyes closed with a smirk on his face. She swallows. She breathes. She lays back down and tries to take a page out of her little brother’s book as the day’s fatigue finally overpowers her. 

**Author's Note:**

> if pixelberry won't give everyone in the it lives-verse a happy ending i sure the fuck will! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed! find me on tumblr @livesbeneath.


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